


Double Trouble

by Plouton



Category: Bleach
Genre: Fluff, Grimmjow is Very Thirsty, Grimmjows entire thought process is: if I cant flirt I must kill him, Ichigo is clueless, M/M, ichigo is a little thirsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28293333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plouton/pseuds/Plouton
Summary: Grimmjow will not become distracted from his goal of becoming the King of Demons and waging war on the rest of the spirits, and so far, that’s all the human has been. A distraction.Kiyohime absolutely had the right idea murdering her infatuation, how else is Grimmjow supposed to deal with this? By flirting? HA! No. He'll kill Kurosaki, nice and quick, and then fuck off back to his mountain to continue preparing for his war.Or that was the plan all of five minutes ago
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 15
Kudos: 177
Collections: 🧡💙The GrimmIchi Server 2020 Secret Santa💙🧡





	Double Trouble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gizah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gizah/gifts).



“Human… _Human!_ ” Grimmjow hisses, horns, nose and the sides of his hands pressed against a thin glass pane as he peers into the dark room, hands cupped around his eyes to see better. The human in question is asleep, bundled under a thick, warm looking blanket with a large cross pattern to ward off the autumnal chill. 

Not that Grimmjow is imagining how much he wishes he were under the blanket too. Demons aren’t affected by something so frivolous as the cold, especially not ones as strong as he is. Even if the human world is significantly colder than his home inside the volcano. It just looks soft. And the human is under there, which is the only reason he’s even paying attention to the blanket. 

He rattles his horns against the glass obnoxiously, nose swiping quickly across the frigid surface of the window, and is pleased to see the outline of a body shuffle. A scruff of orange hair slowly emerges from the huddle, before the body wakes with a jolt, a fist lashing out violently at the air in anticipation of a threat before he is fully awake.

He seems momentarily befuddled when he hits nothing, before turning to notice Grimmjow’s glowering visage. 

“Let me the fuck _in,_ Human!” Ok. So he’s a little cold, and a lot peeved that he’s been out here for a whole minute. 

“Grimmjow?” Ichigo asks, surprised, before doing a second take, “ _Demon Grimmjow?”_

Grimmjow slams a fist into the glass threateningly instead of answering. His name is _just_ Grimmjow. 

Ichigo rushes to open it before the demon can break it. “What the hell are you doing here? How the _hell_ did you find me?” 

Grimmjow shoves his way inside, physically bulldozing over Ichigo's weak (and half asleep) attempt to stop him. The room is significantly warmer than the outside, and he doesn’t immediately turn to Ichigo, pretending instead to inspect the room so that he can temporarily warm his hands in the fur of his cape without being noticed.

A little black box on the table blinks _2.12 AM_ in dull red light. A magic powered timepiece? Wasteful. 

Paper. Books. A sleek silver metal tablet that looks like it could have been used for scrying if it wasn’t such a dull texture. Can humans even scry?

“The hell do y’mean? I came lookin’ fer you.” He 'completes' his inspection and drops his hands back to his side.

“What are you _doing here_?” The human hisses, shuffling fully out of the bed to put a hand on the spirit’s bare shoulder and pull him around to face him. 

Grimmjow allows it, momentarily eying the undoubtedly warm spot in the bed that the man just vacated. What he wouldn't _kill_ to snuggle into that spot. “You fucking deaf? I _said_ I been lookin’ fer you.”

“ _Why_?!”

Suddenly, he’s looming over the human, fierce blue eyes narrowed, wicked, carnivorous fangs on display, long black claws flexing against the air. 

Is Ichigo truly so _dense_? Grimmjow is here for one reason, and one reason alone. To kill him. Obviously.

See, Grimmjow is a demon. The ivory horns, bone on his face, hole in his stomach should say as much. And there’s one thing the demons absolutely do _not do._

 **Love**.

Or well. Not Love in Grimmjow’s case. It’s more like a perpetual itch he can’t scratch. Every time his mind wanders he ends up back at the human. 

But still!

He’s not supposed to… to be feeling _hot_ and _flushed_ whenever he thinks of the human. He’s not supposed to squeal and hide his face in King-Hand’s palm and kick his feet in the air when he imagines the human’s smirk while he matches Grimmjow blow for blow. He's _deminitly_ not supposed to be thinking about cuddling under warm blankets with an armful of _human._

Just how fucking _pathetic_ is that! Behaving like some sorta…. Sorta _love struck_ fool! He’s been acting like Kiyohime! Which is completely absurd and even more unacceptable and - you know.

He’d been waiting _all year_ for Kurosaki to come back. All. Year.

He missed the meaty little ginger human bastard, and it's only partially because he looks like such a snack. 

Ok. 

Admittedly. 

It’s probably closer to 50-50. Grimmjow bets he would have tasted absolutely fucking delicious spit-roasted slowly over a fire until his meat practically _falls_ off the bone. It _has_ been a while since Grimmjow’s eaten a human after all, and this one is a prime specimen. 

But. Fucking. _Weirdly enough._ Grimmjow actually sort of misses the little bastard because he was… uurghk…. _Fun,_ (and strong, and Grimmjow _saw_ those abs when Kurosaki was busy throwing down with him over a gem.)

Maybe it’s because he’s been alone in this empty hollowed out cave for too long with nothing but the King-Hands to keep him company that he feels this way. One asshole with a big personality who doesn’t stand for any of his shit shows up and he’s ready to start handing over jewels right then and there.

Obviously, this means that when the human didn’t turn up like he was supposed to for the third year in a row, it’s _Grimmjow_ who decides to take matters into his own hands and cross the bridge to the human world to do the obvious. 

Kill the human. 

Grimmjow will not become distracted from his goal of becoming the King of Demons and waging war on the rest of the spirits, and so far, that’s all the human has been. A distraction. Kiyohime absolutely had the right idea murdering her infatuation, how else is Grimmjow supposed to deal with this? By _flirting?_ HA! No. He'll kill Kurosaki, nice and quick, and then fuck off back to his mountain to continue preparing for his war.

Or that was the plan all of five minutes ago until Grimmjow was physically standing in the room with him, glaring down at the sleep-ruffled hair, hostile brown eyes, the soft curve of his face, the brush of freckles over his nose…

Grimmjow softens, slightly, _slightly._ One night. He could… He could indulge just for one night, couldn’t he? It’s just his _face,_ Grimmjow’s not fuckin’ soft or weak, fucksake, but how the hell is he supposed to go murdering that when all he can do is think about _kissing it_? He's beautiful.

“Grimmjow?” Ichigo prompts again, one arm reaching up, fingers curled like he might nudge at Grimmjow, before noticing what he’s doing and diverting, crosses them tightly across his chest instead.

“You didn’t visit this year.” Grimmjow finds himself answering. “Been to the Spirit Society on the same day two years in a row, and you didn’t visit this year.”

Ichigo stalls. “You- I- What?” Surely he misheard. The little hitch in Grimmjow’s voice isn’t regret. No, no, that wouldn’t make sense. _That_ would imply that the oni _missed him_ , which is. Just. Completely ridiculous. 

Ichigo's gaze drops and trails along those tantalizing, exposed muscles, down the cleavage of his pecs to the defined ridges of his abs and then down to the hole than in _Ichigo’s_ world, indicates ‘heartlessness’. 

Rukia told him it was just a poetic way of saying that hollows lack empathy and compassion. They need to in order to commit the sins they do in cannibalising their families and loved ones. She told him one afternoon after she caught his gaze sliding down Grimmjow’s bare back after a long brawl. He blushed and stammered and finally grew solemn when she suggested that _perhaps_ Grimmjow has never returned his subtle flirtatious overtures because he is physically incapable of loving another. 

He wonders if a demon’s hole means heartlessness too. 

Grimmjow doesn’t say anything but his expression twists uncomfortably. 

It’s a very un-Grimmjow expression, Ichigo decides. This version of the man isn’t as abrasive or aggressive as his arrancar counterpart. He’s clearly also not as immune to embarrassment as the arrancar. 

“You came looking for me.” Ichigo clarifies. It’s not quite a question. 

Grimmjow snarls. “Fuck you, human.”

“Ichigo.”

“Fuck you, Ichigo.”

“Why?”

“I-” Grimmjow stammers, looks blatantly taken aback by the question. He takes a fortifying breath and forges on with his quintessential stubbornness. “I’m gonna kill you.”

Ichigo stiffens, shaking sleep from his shoulder and takes one, aborted step to the side. _Of fucking course._ This is still Grimmjow even if it’s not _his_ Grimmjow. He’s just as capable of murder. His badge is on the far corner of his desk behind Grimmjow's right shoulder, if he could just reach it. 

Where is Kon when he needs him? Grimmjow freaked out completely over him last time. 

There’s at least a meter between him and the badge. Then he has to drop his body and get Grimmjow out through the window before he smashes the whole place to bits. And then somehow wrestle him back into the Spirit Society without major damages. 

Not good. Not Good, with proper capitalization and maybe one of those little ™ symbols in the corner. 

Not Good™.

Which is a real shame, because Not Good™ looks _Really Good™_ while he’s imagining smashing a fist into Ichigo’s face and ripping his throat out with his teeth - Ichigo knows exactly what the look means. Grimmjow has spelled out some _very_ explicit threats with that exact same fanged grin on his face. And - oh Ichigo should _not_ be thinking too hard about that grin because Demon Grimmjow’s teeth are even sharper than his Grimmjow’s. He’d probably leave some _amazing_ marks on his skin. Which, NO! Bad Ichigo. He can not be thinking about Grimmjow giving him hickies when he's facing down a death threat.

But damn if Ichigo doesn’t want to just relish in the sight of bare skin sliding over strong, sinuous muscle, the flash of sharp white fangs in the dim lighting, and the supernatural glow of vibrant blue eyes. 

He takes another careful step and Grimmjow moves too, mirroring him, _stalking him,_ he realizes. Circling his prey slowly, his claws quiet on the hardwood floor under his bare feet.

There’s little space between them, Ichigo’s room is not large and a fight in here would be detrimental to all parties, not that that will dissuade someone like Grimmjow, if this one is anything like his own.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez is wild and reckless. Violent in a way that Ichigo _delights in,_ when he’s in the bunker and not in his bedroom.

Ichigo knows that it’s the hollow in him that craves the violence, but he’s fairly convinced that a pretty large part of the human in him is equally fascinated. Or just fascinated with Grimmjow. And even if this isn’t his Grimmjow, or hell, what does it matter, it’s not like he’s told his Grimmjow about any of his little fantasies either. 

“So let me get this straight,” Ichigo talks to distract the yokai and create time as the pair slowly move past each other. Ichigo is inching closer to his badge slowly but surely. “You came _all this way_ to kill me, when you haven’t even seen me in over a year, _because_ you haven’t seen me in over a year. Sounds to me like you might have been looking forward to my annual visit to the Spirit realm.”

It’s a shot in the dark, a mocking jest, but Grimmjow’s shoulders hike and his eyes narrow and his savage grin turns into a glare.

“The fuck would I miss a piece of shit human like you for?”

“You tell me. You’re the one that came All. This. Way. Weren’t you telling me how you would never leave your mountain until you were starting a war?” He’s so _close._ Two more steps and he’ll be out of his body. 

Grimmjow doesn’t give him the chance. He lunges, surges forward, Ichigo raises an arm, reaches out to try snag the badge, eyes wide, he can’t _reach,_ can’t defend himsel-

Serrated teeth and blade sharp claws don’t find him. There is no attack, just the aggressive press of cool lips against his. Grimmjow’s blue eyes are wide, as if Grimmjow is just as shocked by his actions as Ichigo. 

Grimmjow is kissing him. 

_Grimmjow_ is kissing him.

Grimmjow is _kissing_ him. 

His mouth is warm, even when his hands are freezing, cupped against Ichigo’s cheeks. He’d clearly been outside for a long time. He licks against Ichigo’s lips and the shinigami is much too stunned by the flip flop from ‘kill you’ to ‘kiss you’ that he opens his mouth without thought. 

His hands find Grimmjow’s wrists instinctively, thumbs brush against knuckles, one human skinned and smooth, the other silky black fur, and then he’s burying his hands in thick blue hair instead. The kiss is exploratory. There’s nibbling, inhumanly sharp teeth nipping at his lips and the tip of his tongue, his mask occasionally bumps against Ichigo’s nose. 

But there’s no ‘battle for dominance’, no snarling, shoving, biting or hair pulling. It’s less aggressive than anything Ichigo has imagined kissing Grimmjow would be like. That breaks the spell.

He shoves the demon away roughly, breath ragged, but Grimmjow grants him no respite, rushing forward to crowd him back against his desk and claiming his mouth for a second time. He’s insistent and controlling even when he lacks his Grimmjow’s baseline levels of violence. Driven more by eagerness than experience.

Ichigo groans, his hands press ineffectually agaisnt Grimmjow's strong chest. It would be _so easy_ to kiss him back. To admit to himself that he’s been craving this for far too long to be healthy and he will never get the chance to kiss - he breaks the kiss again, his head turning to the side with a loud: “Wait!”

This time Grimmjow pauses. 

He looks frustrated. There’s a deep line between his brows where they’re pinched together and his lips are still tugged into a snarl. There’s also an underlying uncertainty poorly hidden behind his eyes. It coaxes Ichigo to indulge. 

This is something he’ll never get with his own realm’s Grimmjow. The arrancar is too vicious and untamable to ever consider kissing him, to ever return his affection. Ichigo doesn’t even think he knows what a kiss is. 

This Grimmjow though, with his elegant, curving horns and his feathered jewelry and fur cloak, and his hands holding Ichigo so gently, as though he is one of his precious gems. _He_ wants Ichigo. 

Can’t Ichigo have this too? Choose his own enjoyment and pleasure? Even if it’s not the Grimmjow he’s been daydreaming about - if he’s such an impossibility then shouldn’t he enjoy what’s found him instead?

“Ichigo?” The oni whispers, his warm breath tickling Ichigo’s lips. He’s close enough for Ichigo to simply lean forwards, into that broad chest, and find his lips again.

 _Fuck_ the temptation is so strong. And so, slowly, slowly, with his gaze darting from brilliant eyes to plump lips and back again, Ichigo leans in, lashes fluttering. Grimmjow's face tips up. Like something out of a romance movie, their breath mingles in the scant millimeters of air between them and an angry thump at the window followed by the crinkly sound of glass shattering interrupts them.

Ichigo and Grimmjow jolt apart with matching expressions of bewilderment to greet the sight that awaits them.

Grimmjow glares down at the pair, his broad sounders filling nearly the entire window frame, blotting out the moon itself. His eyes, narrowed into slits, tapetum lucidum barely flashing in the dim light, rove from Ichigo to Grimmjow. He notes the ruffled hair, the swollen, wet lips, the small cut caused by the oni’s sharp teeth. 

“Well, well, well. What do we have _here._ ” Grimmjow’s voice is filled with violent promise. His reiatsu is weighty like the clouds before a storm that carry nothing but destruction and ruin. “You gone and replaced me, huh, _Kurosaki_?” 

“Grimm-” Ichigo’s head swings between the two, even as the pair size each other up. 

Grimmjow’s hand is on his zanpakutō.

“I’m not replacing you, Grimmjow, this is…” How the hell is he supposed to explain this? “There’s another dimension. It calls itself the Spirit Society, everyone _here_ has a version of themselves there. This is-”

“Me.” Grimmjow’s tone is flat. If he didn’t look two seconds away from homicide, Ichigo thinks he might have rolled his eyes. 

“He’s how you knew my name?” Grimmjow, demon Grimmjow (shit, Ichigo really needs a way to differentiate them) asks and Ichigo risks a look over his shoulder. Pointed ivory horns are tilted in Ichigo’s direction, though his eyes never stray from the threat. Any second now he was going to summon those massive oni hands into existence and then Ichigo’s room and probably most of his house would get smashed to pieces in the crossfire. 

“If you two think you’re going to fight-”

Grimmjow interrupts him, “He must be good, right?”

Ichigo blinks, caught off guard, but Grimmjow’s eyes are now fixed solely on him. “What?”

“He must be good right? Got ya flushin’ like that…” 

For the first time, Ichigo realizes just how hot he’s feeling. His cheeks and ears and the back of his neck. It’s not exactly warm in the room now with how long the window has been open for several minutes, allowing the fresh autumn air inside, but he feels almost too hot. 

Grimmjow’s head tilts, permitting a beam of moonlight past him. His eyes are nearly luminescent. Bright blue. 

Ichigo swallows dry.

The arrancar is handsome in every form, but this one is familiar. He knows the lines of his scars, knows which ones he placed there himself. His oni equivalent is beautiful no doubt, dressed in jewelry and furs and yet somehow more wild, but Grimmjow, _his Grimmjow,_ Ichigo knows him. 

Grimmjow steps off the window sill to slink across the bedsheets and onto his floor. His steps are completely silent. 

“You gonna let me try? I think I’ll leave bruises. Here.” A finger brushes at the edge of Ichigo’s collar. “And here. Better than he could.” 

The demon behind him bristles, a low growl filling the air. It might be a warning to back off, but Ichigo doesn't care. He can't seem to find enough air in his entire room. Grimmjow is so _close._ And he’s so… _so…_

“Grimmjow-” Ichigo is at a loss for words, because it's almost like Grimmjow is asking for permission, and the glint in his eye is hunting and wanting. Ichigo is completely pinned. Mesmerised. He’s never felt so desired in his life. 

“Since you been goin’ round kissin’ my doppleganger, you should have _no_ problems with me.” Grimmjow is practically looming now. Even though there’s really only an inch in height between them, Ichigo feels completely dwarfed. Too stunned to process. 

The arrancar’s eyes slips over his shoulder momentarily, must have found the demon’s gaze because his lips quirk into the beginnings of a victorious smile. The demon is quiet though. 

Suspicious, he also risks a glance over his shoulder (it’s usually a mistake to look away when in Grimmjow’s presence, but he can’t keep both of them in his line of sight) and realizes with a start that _no_ that growl wasn’t a warning at all. Not with the way he’s looking at Ichigo. It was an _invitation._

Ichigo whips back around to face Grimmjow and finds himself nose first with his chest. He takes a single stumbling step back to create space and for the second time tonight, attempts to reach for his badge before the arrancar’s strong hands trap him by the biceps. 

The hollow smiles a fang-filled grin down at him. “Where y’tryin’ ta run off to there, Ku-ro-sa- _ki._ ”

A third hand lands on his hip, sharp claws barely playing at the ticklish edge of his v-line, one slipping under the hem of his sleep shirt to toy with the elastic of his boxers. _His boxers._ He completely forgot he’s been in them the whole _time._ And in which he is about to attempt to fight _two versions_ of his long standing... rival?

_Shit shit shit._

“Grimmjow, Grimmjows _._ Let me get out of my body and then we can fight as much as you guys want, alright?” He concedes, offering the only thing he knows to convince his Grimmjow to do anything. 

The warm, deep chuckle against the shell of his ear isn’t the reaction he’s hoping for, neither is the impossible widening of the arrancar’s carnivorous smile. Two sets of clawed hands flex against him. He is well and _truly_ trapped, both large bodies pinning him between them. 

He cranks his neck trying to twist to see over his shoulder and finds a matching expression on the other Grimmjow’s face. They look like they’re about to eat him _alive._

“Oh, we aren’t interested in a fight,” Grimmjow purrs, and Ichigo’s head whips back around at the threatening noise, instinctively trying to step away and only succeeding in backing straight into demon Grimmjow’s chest, thereby eliminating any remaining space between the three when arrancar Grimmjow claims Ichigo’s lost three centimeters. 

Absently he notices that the Oni is slightly taller, more akin to Grimmjow’s resurreccion in height, which absolutely does _not_ send a bolt of heat down to his stomach. 

“You’re always interested in fightin-”

Grimmjow rolls his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up,” and Ichigo learns that his Grimmjow _does_ know what a kiss is. And he _also_ knows how to do it _really well,_ plundering the air itself from his lungs. Hands running from biceps to his hair, pulling and guiding him to tilt his head just so _._

 _Oh._ He realizes, when a second mouth descends with fervor to the sensitive skin of his neck, mapping the places pointed out just minutes before. Hands that had limited themselves to his arms and hips grow bolder, tracing and pinching and Ichigo _moans._ _Oh No._

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS GIZA! 
> 
> I'm your Secret Santa, tada! I hope you enjoyed the read and that it successfully scratched your Demonjow itch!


End file.
